


Where Midnight Never Ends

by thestarkbitchtumblr



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Genre: 1980’s, America, Call me by your name, College Setting, Gay Sex, Italy, Like Sufjan Stevens, M/M, Oliver’s last name is Stevens, University Setting, elio is a musician, elio perlman - Freeform, mlm, oliver is a professor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-20 12:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17622635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarkbitchtumblr/pseuds/thestarkbitchtumblr
Summary: In 1986, Elio and Oliver reunite and the whirlwind continues.ORAn affair occurs in the infinite liminality of their first midnight together.





	1. A Reunion So Sweet

_February 10th, 1986_

It was the first day back at work since the snow melted, and Oliver was frustrated as shit. He didn’t even have class that day, but if he spent any more time in his suffocating apartment, he would put a hole through his head. He was writing a lecture for the coming week, feeling that he was at the cusp of overcoming a great creative block, when there was a knock at his door.

“Sorry, my office hours are only on Mondays and Thursdays.” He shouted, scribbling away with a pen and paper, his insistence of rejecting the typewriter for everyday use seeming almost masochistic to his increasingly cramping hand. There was another knock, a little more harsh and defiant than the first gentle rapping of knuckles on oakwood.

“Today is Friday!” He yelled again, scratching out the words “today is Friday”, growing increasingly frustrated, his grip on the stupid fountain pen his TA had gotten him tightening. There was yet another knock, this time more like a pounding, as if the person on the other side was daring him to lose it. Whichever little shit student of his was on the other side of that door was definitely getting a D- on their next exam.

“FRIDAY IS NOT MONDAY OR THURSDAY, FUCK FACE!” He shouted, and right as the door opened, his pen snapped in half, ink exploding all over his hand, arm, and shirt. “FUCK!” He spat, standing up to assess the damage.

“I swear to God, I’ll make you pay for this shirt–“ His voice betrayed him in the middle of his sentence when he looked up and saw Elio Perlman standing before him, smirking at the sight of his former lover shouting out in anger with black ink spilt all over him. “Elio,” He breathed, his anger a distant memory as he took in the sight of the young Italian standing before him.

“Did your pen explode or are you just happy to see me?” He teased, heaps of that nonchalant European confidence oozing from his every word. Oliver laughed and dropped the pen, looking around for something to wipe the ink on, settling on a series of tissues before approaching the young man. He paused, unsure of how to greet him. A handshake would feel cold, unnatural, overly professional, but it would set any boundaries that might need setting. A quick side hug might do the trick, yet the mechanics of it would only set the stage for awkwardness and containment in their every interaction from that point on. _Ball is in your court, Perlman._ The professor thought to himself. To Oliver’s relief, Elio opened his arms with a warm smile. The two men embraced briefly, yet it was enough. Elio was still slender and thin, yet he could tell that he’d put some muscle on. His dark curls were slightly longer and messier than when they’d last seen one another at that train station in Bergamo. Their departure from one another had been all too fleeting, leaving so many questions unanswered, so many feelings lingering like a ghost of what they’d had during those impossibly brief few weeks in the Italian countryside. Elio still smelled like cigarettes, sweat, and freshly mown grass, the scent knocking the older man back into that summer for a fleeting moment. Oliver caught himself staring and smiling like an idiot before he ran a hand through his hair and turned away.

“What, uh, what are you doing here?” The professor asked, feigning that nonchalance that Elio had probably mastered at the age fo two.

“I was in the area for a concert, and I thought I’d drop by _Professor Oliver Stevens’_ office. See how you’re doing. Maybe have dinner with you and your wife.” He said, taking in the sight of his cozy little office. Oliver furrowed his brows and shook his head.

“My wife?” He asked, unsure of what the younger meant.

“Aren’t you married? Last time we spoke, you told me you’d gotten engaged and would be married by the spring of ’84.” Elio asked. The true casualty had left his voice. It was more strained, genuine curiosity and a sort of hope shone through, unearthing a whole slew of emotions for Oliver.

“Oh, right. Annette. She and I never ended up getting married. As it turns out, she was cheating on me with our wedding planner’s husband, which I think would make a rather poor foundation for a marriage.” The professor chuckled, studying the young musician’s reaction. He was deceitfully casual in his nodding, keeping his eyes wandering across the spines of the various books that he kept stacked in his old shelves, yet Oliver saw the strain in his cheeks from keeping the corners of his mouth from tugging upwards.

“Ah. Well, at least you dodged a bullet.” He offered as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, his hands jammed into his pockets. Oliver looked down at his stained white button down and then back up at Elio.

“Uh, would you mind if I changed real quick?” He asked, unsure of how the younger man might react. Elio shrugged before grinning.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He laughed when the older man paused. “Don’t worry, Elio, I can keep it in my pants for a few seconds while you put on a new shirt.” The young man said, keeping eye contact with the professor, just to see his reaction. Oliver was taken aback by such a casual use of what had been so tenderly and intimately whispered before. _Before._ Oliver forced a fleeting smile before swallowing and beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt. The two men kept their eyes on one another, the elder nervous and unsure, the younger maintaining his air of nonchalance and confidence, almost daring him to take it further, to make the first move as he had done in that summer field an eternity ago. Finally, without breaking eye contact, Oliver had removed the shirt entirely. Then, in one swift motion, he removed his undershirt as well, leaving his toned torso bare for the young man to admire. Elio raised his eyebrows as he inspected his ex-lover’s body.

“Hey, Elio, if you’re not doing anything tonight—“ But before he could finish, the professor was rudely interrupted by a colleague’s TA barging into his office.

“Hey Professor, I just wanted to get back to you on that research paper you asked for— Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was interrupting.” The young woman who had interjected blushed sheepishly, embarrassed by having walked in on a superior in a compromising position.

“Oh, thanks, just leave it on my desk. Polly, this is Elio Perlman, he’s a family friend. I just spilled ink on my shirt.” He explained with a laugh. Polly forced a giggle as well before Elio cut them both off.

“Oh, Oliver, you wound me. We were lovers in the summer of ‘83, we had frequent passionate sex in the Italian countryside before circumstance tore us apart. The world just wasn’t ready for our love.” Elio said, a hint of sarcasm in his melodious voice. There was a brief pause before Polly started laughing, a real, genuine laugh. Oliver forced a bellow of his own, resting his hand on Elio’s shoulder and pinching him. The young man smiled to himself, enjoying the dramatic irony of the joke.

“You’re friend here is quite funny, Professor Stevens. I’ll be on my way, but I just wanted to drop off these papers.” Polly said, nodding to Elio on her way out, closing the door behind her.

“Jesus fucking christ, Elio! _The world wasn’t ready for our love?_ You are just one giant tease, aren’t you?” Oliver exhaled, pushing the younger man playfully.

“Maybe I am. And to answer the question you were going to ask me about what I’m doing or would like to be doing tonight, pick me up at eight. I’d love to... catch up.” He then grabbed a ballpoint pen from Oliver’s desk and jotted down the address of his hotel on the inside of a copy of _Folklore of the Scottish Highlands_. “Later.” Elio mused before winking and leaving the small office.

As soon as the door had closed, the professor shook his head, as if he had just woken from a trance, the address scrawled in the book acting as the only evidence that Elio Perlman had been there at all. Oliver breathed out a laugh as he grabbed the spare shirt out of his bag, the unfinished lecture left forgotten on the desk as the professor abandoned his office to go home to his tiny apartment to prepare it for what could very well be a date with the only person he ever truly loved.


	2. To be in Your Arms Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oliver takes Elio to a field near where he grew up, and the two catch up.

Oliver had cleaned and rearranged his apartment three different times over the six hours since when Elio showed up at his office. He wasn’t even sure that the younger man would want to come back to his apartment after dinner. Hell, were they even going to dinner? All Oliver knew was that he would be picking Elio up at his hotel at 8:00. He checked the time on his watch, noting that it was 7:13, laughing at the irony of it all. For their first time since the summer of ’83, it was Elio who set the time, and Oliver who kept checking.

The younger man’s hotel was probably only a ten minute drive, but Oliver went early, if only because he was impossibly eager to see him again, to make sure that their impromptu meeting in his office wasn’t just a figment of his imagination that his desperately lonely, desperately horny mind has conjured up. He looked himself in the mirror one last time, running a hand through his hair before unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dark green shirt, exposing the hair on his chest and the star of David that hung around his neck. He breathed in the musty air of his apartment before patting his pockets, making sure that he had his keys and wallet before departing. He turned on his car radio, tapping the steering wheel along to the sound of Queen as he made his way through the streets of Boston. When he parked in front of the hotel half an hour before 8:00, Oliver was surprised so see Elio already waiting outside. He was smoking a cigarette and _holy Jesus fuck_ , he was wearing his shirt. It was the same light blue button down that Oliver had given him shortly after they had slept together for the first time, and it looked so good on him that it took the professors breath away. Elio spotted him and grinned, taking one final drag of the cigarette before putting it out and getting in the passenger side.

“You’re here early.” The younger man commented with a smile. Oliver nodded as he put the car into drive before slipping his hand from the gear shift onto Elio’s thigh.

“Well, to be fair, so were you.” He quipped as they began to drive away from the hotel. “Nice shirt.” He remarked. Elio grinned at the professor in the driver’s seat before turning the volume up on the radio.

“Where are we headed?” The younger man asked, gently tracing the lines of the veins on the hand that Oliver had rested on his thigh.

“You’ll see, Oliver.” The professor responded with a smile, already feeling as if they were settling into their old rhythms. The younger man squeezed Oliver’s hand as he enjoyed the sound of the professor’s name falling on his sharp ears.

As they drove, they got caught up on what the other had been doing over the past few years. Oliver filled him in on his work as a professor at Boston College, about how he had gained his doctorate in classical studies and was teaching courses on the modern significance of Ancient Greek literature, architecture, and culture. Elio was starting to really make it as musician. He’d released his first album two months prior. It was only six songs, but it had already made one hundred thousand sales. He worked as a piano teacher for a day job, but if the whole music thing really took off, then he would either drop the classes, or charge a hell of a lot extra. After about forty five minutes of driving, Oliver slowed his ’82 Corolla to a stop in a vast field and turned off the engine.

“What are we doing here?” Elio asked as they stepped out of the car. Oliver put up a finger as he opened the trunk of his car, pulling out a bottle of red wine, three blankets, a travel radio, a sleeve of dixie cups, and two jackets.

“Picnic. I know, I know, it’s February in Massachusetts, but trust me, you’ll enjoy it. I grew up five minutes from here by foot. I used to bring dates out here all the time.” The professor said as he tossed Elio one of the jackets. He slid it onto his slender body with ease, and Oliver couldn’t believe the fact that he still managed to look effortlessly amazing, despite the fact that the jacket was at least two sizes too big.

“Who said this was a date?” The younger man asked as the professor laid out the largest blanket. Oliver froze, afraid that he had fucked everything up before Elio began to laugh. The older man exhaled, relieved, before playfully punching the young musician on the shoulder.

The professor finished setting everything up before unscrewing the cork from the bottle of wine and poured the drink into two paper cups, handing one to Elio before raising it up in the air.

“To unexpected reunions.” He said with a light smile. Elio grinned, never breaking eye contact as he drank.

“This is from our vineyard in Italy, isn’t it?” The younger man asked, smelling the wine before taking another sip.

“It is. I was saving it for a special occasion, and this seems about as special as any.” Oliver said with a sentimental smile before taking another sip of the red.

“We gave you this as a parting gift. You’ve been holding onto this bottle of wine for two and a half years.” Elio paused. “You didn’t let go.” It wasn’t a question. It was the realization of a fact that could not be disputed, not after it had been thrust out into the world. Oliver swallowed hard and nodded without a word. A gust of wind sent a shiver through both of the men, causing the professor to smile as he got an idea. The elder of the two men bent down and tuned the radio to a station that always played classical music. They happened to be playing The Goldberg Variations: I. Aria from Bach, one of his more romantic tunes.

“Dance with me.” Oliver held out his hand, and Elio grinned as he took it. The two men pressed their bodies up against each other, arms wrapped around each other, swaying slowly and softly to the gentle serenading of the piano.

Elio breathed in the scent of Oliver’s musk, relishing in how absolutely euphoric it felt to be in his arms once more. Just the two of them. The professor smelled of old books, ink, and sweat. As soon as the elder man had informed the musician of his bachelor status, his entire plan for the day had been thrown out the window. The truth was, Elio was only in town to say goodbye to Oliver and let his feelings go once and for all. He’d been living with a weight around his neck for two and a half years, believing that the only person he’d ever really been in love with was married to someone else. Hearing of his, at the time, impending marriage in the winter of ’83 had dredged up all of his initial anxieties that their whole relationship had just been a mere distraction, or even worse, an older man taking pity on him, indulging in homosexual tendencies for a couple weeks to make the kid feel better about himself. As time went on, and memories of their time together warped and faded, the musician had a hard time distinguishing what was real and what had been twisted by time’s cruel madness. Yet upon witnessing the professor’s entire demeanor shift from sheer anger to speechlessness merely upon seeing him walk into his office and hearing that he had never actually married the woman that he had been engaged to, Elio forgot all about letting go.

Oliver ran his fingers through Elio’s curly brown locks, smiling to himself as he held the younger man closer.

“I missed you so fucking much.” He whispered into the musician’s ear. Elio pulled back ever so slightly to look into the professor’s eyes.

“Kiss me.” He murmured, the desire and longing dripping from his voice. Oliver took the younger man’s face in his hands and looked into his eyes, shining with the moonlight.

“Oliver,” He whispered his own name against the younger man’s lips.

“Elio,” The musician replied before their lips gently met one another for the first time since just before they had left the hotel suite in Bergamo. If that kiss had been goodbye, then this was by every means a hello, an _I’ve missed you_ , a reunion of the highest intensity. The two men smiled against each other’s lips as the final notes of the song played. Elio ran his nimble fingers across the soft skin of Oliver’s neck, kissing his lips over and over and over again, the two whispering their names against each other’s skin as the moon and stars bathed them in their silvery light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I just wanted to apologize for having this up a lot later than I originally anticipated, I’ve just been getting sidetracked with stuff at home. Anyways, thank you for reading, and thank you especially if you left kudos or a nice comment!

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen Call Me by Your Name seven times over the past three days, so this is me manifesting my obsession in a different medium.


End file.
